


Pressure Tactics

by lightgetsin



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/F, First Time, Kinkmeme, PWP, Rule 63, strap on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-31
Updated: 2011-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightgetsin/pseuds/lightgetsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcone settled a knee between mine, insinuating herself like a snake. Into my space, into my life, into my head, and now into my freaking pants. Sometimes I swear it might have been easier to agree to be her pet wizardess all those years ago. Maybe she would have been satisfied with a little piece of me, instead of demanding everything.</p><p>. . . Nah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure Tactics

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme fill. Prompt was for Dresden/Marcone, F/F, Marcone has a strap on and fucks Harry's brains out. Twist my arm, I said.

“Oh _hell_ no,” I said, scrabbling backwards across the bed.

Marcone lifted that fucking eyebrow, amused at me like always. “I was just trying to make you feel more comfortable,” she said.

“Okay, no.” I jabbed a finger at her. “Remember how I said I was going to tell you every time you brought the crazy? Well here it is, you brought it.”

She came across the bed after me on her knees. The candlelight was doing amazing things to the pale skin of her breasts, but I was fixated elsewhere, thanks. On the leather straps around her waist and the tops of her thighs, to be precise, and the black silicon _thing_ poking out from between her legs. It should have looked comical. It actually looked intimidating. But that just fucking figured – Jane Marcone wore intimidating like lipstick that went with everything.

“I thought this would be more familiar for you,” she said, leaning over and planting a hand on my far side. “After all, you’ve spent how many years telling me you like dick?”

“I do,” I snapped reflexively. I do! Did. Do. Whatever. “But for the record, a – a _strap on_ is not how normal people lay out the welcome mat.”

Marcone settled a knee between mine, insinuating herself like a snake. Into my space, into my life, into my head, and now into my freaking pants. Sometimes I swear it might have been easier to agree to be her pet wizardess all those years ago. Maybe she would have been satisfied with a little piece of me, instead of demanding everything.

. . . Nah.

“So,” she said. “You don’t want me to fuck you?” She spread my legs wider with her knees and leaned in close. The tip of the thing brushed up against me, sliding wetly. “You know I’ll make it good for you.”

“. . . No?” I said. Damn it!

She hummed, running one calloused hand up my side to cup my breast. I jolted preemptively even before she brushed over my nipple; she’d had her hands up my shirt in the car all the way from River North, and I was aching and sensitive.

“No?” she questioned, rocking her hips. The silicon tip lodged unerringly against my clit, and I groaned. “You sure?” She dropped a hand between us, shifting down, and rubbed the head of it against me, not quite into me, right where I – stars. Right where I wanted it.

“How good, exactly?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

She grinned that _I win_ smile, the one that makes three hundred pound mobsters crawl on their bellies and whine like dogs. True story, I was there.

“You’d like quantification?” She bent and kissed the hollow of my throat, tonguing my pentacle out of the way. “I can respect that,” she murmured against my skin. “I will fuck your brains out, how’s that?”

I sucked in a breath. Jane Marcone kept her promises.

I wanted to say something snappy, but if I did then she would, and it was entirely possible we’d get stuck in a sarcasm loop all fucking night. And I really did want an orgasm. One from her, good enough to match all the big talk just now, and back in the car, and, oh I don’t know, off and on for the past decade.

So I didn’t say anything. Instead I spread my legs wider for her, tilting my hips like I would for a man. The toy slid into me, just half an inch. I swallowed a moan, and Marcone inhaled sharply through her nose, her spine snapping straight.

And then I stopped moving, and she missed her cue, somehow. She just knelt there, stupid toy spreading me wide but not giving me what I really wanted.

“What _now_?” I demanded.

She arched an eyebrow at me. Just one, because her control is that obnoxiously precise even down to the muscular level. “Oh, my apologies. Did you want something?”

“What, do I need to hang a fucking banner?” I propped up on my elbows, outraged.

She cocked her head. “I do recall you telling me – shouting at me, I should say – that I needed to stop hearing ‘no’ from you as ‘I need more pressure tactics.’”

I glanced over the side of the bed. Our clothes were all jumbled in a big pile, since we’d practically torn them off each other. I could get up right now, and I could dig through Marcone’s gray skirt suit, and I could find my underwear with blue stars on them from Target, and my cotton bra, and my extra tall jeans, and my Stone Roses t-shirt, and I could walk myself right out of here. I didn’t need Marcone’s endless control issues, or her snake’s smile, or her big bed, or her over-the-top promises.

“I need more pressure tactics,” I said, because I’m a sucker and a glutton for punishment.

Marcone smiled, all the way up into her eyes. It was maybe the third time I’d seen that. “I’m good at pressure tactics,” she said, and slid that silicon dick all the way into me. I groaned, scrabbling my feet flat to the bed and grinding onto it. Stars, it was fat and long, with a sharp curve at the end that was getting me just fucking right.

“That’s it,” Marcone said, and gave it to me again. She fucked me slow and dirty, circling her hips against mine and pushing deep. She hovered close over me on her hands, her short-clipped hair falling askew across her temple and her breasts brushing over mine.

I was getting fucked, yeah, but I couldn’t mistake her for a man, even with my eyes closed. I could smell how wet she was, and those were a woman’s throaty sex noises, and the dick in me was just a little too hard and angled. I squeezed down on it, shuddering as she fucked hard into my tight clench. Hell’s bells, but this was good.

I wriggled a hand down between us. I’d never come just on someone’s cock before, and Marcone’s plastic dick really wasn’t that special.

“Hey,” I said, knocking my knuckles against her belly, “give me some room here.” She eased back, not commenting for once. But suddenly things sort of slid out of alignment, and the next time she pushed into me I winced. “Wait, shit,” I said, trying to get it right again. I’d pushed her far enough into the vertical that I’d have to curl up at an impossible angle to get it the way I wanted it. And I really wanted it, at that point.

“On your knees,” Marcone said, at the exact moment I was shoving off my elbows to roll over. As usual, we could problem solve together in moments of great need, no trouble. It was just the other ninety nine point nine percent of times that were a problem. “Christ,” she said, running her fingers down the crack of my ass and right into me, somehow still a shocking intimacy. “You’re so open.”

And then she slammed back into me. I yelped, slapping a hand forward to the headboard to brace myself. “Yes!” I said, completely involuntarily.

That was clearly a mistake. Or brilliant. Marcone went for me like a crazy woman, and for once I didn’t have it in me to call her on it. She grabbed me by the hips, dragged me up and back onto it, and just _fucked_ me. A howl was building up in my belly, and I let it come out. I could hear the fast _clap clap clap_ of her hips against my haunches, her harsh breathing, my helpless noises.

She reached around with one hand and squeezed my breasts, pinching roughly the way she’d learned I liked maybe half an hour ago. Then she wrapped her hand in the thick mass of hair at the nape of my neck and pulled my head back. I pushed up onto my hands, my back arching.

And I realized, holy shit, I actually was going to come like this, with Marcone’s hand in my hair and her amazing, fantastic dick in me.

“Yes,” I said again, actually meaning to that time. And then I said a whole bunch of other things, like, “right there,” and “fuck me, fuck me harder,” and “don’t stop.”

I’d never had an orgasm like that before. Like it was a thing that was _happening_ to me whether I wanted it to or not, rather than a thing I worked for. I ground back into Marcone, making breathless, high-pitched noises while it pounded through me. I clenched around the toy, and relaxed, and clenched again.

I dropped my face into a pillow, groaning weakly when it let me go. Marcone smoothed a hand over the hair she’d been grabbing, still holding my hips up. She gave me a paltry three count of peace before she stroked into me again, merciless.

I flailed, helplessly whining. “fuck, don’t,” I said.

She paused. “No?”

“I . . .” I was so sensitive, it hurt. But I wanted her to do it anyway; I wanted her to make me take it.

“All right,” she said. “I got you.” And she did. Stars, she got everything, it felt like.

She fucked me slowly, running gentle hands over every inch of my skin. I shuddered under her, too mixed up to push back into it or to pull away. The toy slid so easy in me now; I was practically dripping.

She waited just long enough for it not to hurt too much, and then she touched my clit. Gentle strokes, just her calloused fingertips working me over while she rocked that dick deep in me. I came again like that, quietly this time, sobbing on the inside.

Even after that, even as wrecked as I was, I still blushed at the wet sound when she pulled the toy out of me. Stars, I was sticky halfway down my thighs.

I rolled over, clumsy, and stared at Marcone. She was working on the buckles of the harness, her head bent and – wow. Her hands were shaking.

“Here,” I said, “let me.” Not that I was doing much better. I got one side while she did the other. The straps fell away, but the toy stayed where it was, sticking out through an o-ring. I investigated with my fingertips, and realized with a visceral jolt that it wasn’t moving because there was a second half of it inside of Marcone.

Her coarse hairs were wet and sticky against my hands. I eased the toy out of her, curious, and she swayed on her knees, groaning between her teeth.

“Hey,” I said. I was drunk on endorphins, and it all seemed so laughably easy now. Want something. Ask for it. Get it. Give it back. So simple. “Come here,” I said, lying back.

She understood fast, because she’s just that smart. She knee walked up my body, one leg to either side of me, tossing the harness and strap on to one side.

“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward and pulling her down to my mouth. I spread her open with both hands, breathing her in. I licked her once, tasting. She grabbed my hair again, the other hand coming down hard on the mattress above my head.

So I, you know. I ate her out. I worked my tongue up into her and let her ride it, then I slid up and licked at her until I found her clit, where I settled in. She rocked onto my face, weight shifting erratically. I felt surrounded by her, bracketed by her thighs, buried in her.

She came long in my mouth. I could feel the blood rushing just below the delicate skin and I groaned into her, sucking strongly until she wrenched herself away from me.

“Christ, Harry,” she said. She dropped down next to me, rubbing her fingers over my open mouth as I panted.

“Mmm,” I said. It covered the salient points where I was concerned. I throbbed between my legs, and all my bones had liquefied. And I felt . . . happy.

She laughed, a full, rich sound I’d never heard before. “Brains out, right,” she said warmly.

“Fuck you,” I hummed.

“Does that mean you’re staying for breakfast?” she asked.

“. . . No?” I said, and I got to hear Jane Marcone laugh like that for the second time.


End file.
